


Once in a Blue Moon

by blueticked



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Magic, Vex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueticked/pseuds/blueticked
Summary: Scar's been growing increasingly frustrated with his villagers and the redstone in his farms. The sheep barn failing was his tipping point. He couldn't holdhimback anymore. Especially not with the blue moon winking down at him.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 93





	Once in a Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

> I discovered the headcannon that badtimeswithscar is vex!scar and so I ran with my own take on convex lore.

Scar knew he shouldn't have been working on the village when there was a blue moon. They couldn't sleep the blue moon away, but he should have gone to bed, shut his eyes and kept himself calm and serene all night. Meditate the night away, or something. That was what everyone else was probably doing.

Cub even texted him, told him to stay indoors. Don't step out underneath the blue moon, don't let yourself be emotionally charged, don't let the one day of magical energy overwhelm you. Cub reminded him that _his_ consciousness would surface, _his_ presence would tremble just beneath Scar's skin, _his_ thoughts would seep through until Scar ultimately gave in to _him_.

But Scar thought he could handle it. All this time, he had been careful, watchful of his own emotions. _He_ hadn't emerged in such a long time. What would a little magical energy in the air do to Scar? He was, after all, a wizard. And he would keep a protection crystal in his robes while he built.

That was all he wanted to do. Build. He wanted to complete his sheep barn. Building was calming. It was fine. He would be fine.

While the crystals could provide some protection from the blue moon's enhanced magical energy, the crystals couldn't protect him from his own mind.

Scar didn't understand why the wool was not going into the hopper beneath the sheep. There was only one block; the wool should have nowhere to go. The wool should not have popped up like that, resting on the surface of his trapdoors. Sometimes, the shears didn't even shear the sheep. Why? Why wasn't it working? And to add insult to injury, he didn't even have enough sheep to fill his sheep barn.

The sheep barn was the last thing he needed to do to complete his village, and this sort of nonsense had to occur. After all his troubles with the villagers, and the troubles with the sorting system, the sheep barn's problems were really the last straw for him.

He was done. He was done! He couldn't do redstone. He tried to create a magical village, but he couldn't protect his villagers. What could he even do? What was he even good for? Building giant flowers and landscaping. Why had he even bothered so much with the beauty of the magical village? It wasn't as though anyone was going to appreciate it; his villagers in their trading halls sure weren't going to even see the village. The people around him had their own mega builds that towered over his little village; no one was going to see his village hidden in the jungle.

He was frustrated. He was angry. He could smash something. Hit something. Tear down the sheep barn and slay everything in his village. Burn his buildings. Burn the jungle.

He could. Nothing was stopping him from doing so. He had the power to. It would be so easy, too. Scar's fingers twitched unconsciously towards his sword. The blue moon whispered to him. It said _yes_. Cause chaos. Cause destruction. He had done it before while wearing a mask. He could do it again. What difference would not wearing a mask make?

Scar closed his eyes momentarily, barely managing to grip the barn door firmly enough to support himself, swaying where he stood.

_He_ was close. Scar could feel _his_ consciousness hovering at the back of his mind; _his_ presence prickling beneath his skin. Too close for comfort. Scar had let negative emotions run too freely; had expressed them too openly. It was time to bury all those emotions, shove them deep inside him where they couldn't surface.

Scar took a deep breath. He would not let the blue moon have control over him. He had promised Cub that he would watch himself, be extra careful tonight. The magic he could feel in the air was not his to weld.

Scar took another step forward and almost fell off the grass scaffolding he had used to build stairs up to the second level of his barn.

His legs were weak. Trembling. He couldn't stand. _He_ had awakened. _He_ was fighting for control.

_If you're angry, just vent it out! What's a little destruction to all the things you create?_

_Why not find another hermit? I'm sure they could cheer you up. Bring some TNT. Blowing up their bases is funny. Creepers do it all the time._

_Wanna fly? Wanna fly away from here? You don't even need rockets or an elytra. You have magic! Let me show you!_

Scar gasped at the way blue moonlight targeted him like a laser, sending a blast of unnatural magical energy his way. It was tickling his fingertips. It was sending cold chills up his limbs. It was freezing his heart - preventing him from reacting, stopping him from fighting back.

It had been a while since he had felt this _familiar_ ache in his bones, this longing in his soul, this much power in his veins.

He wanted it. Deep down, he wanted it.

No, he didn't.

He could give in right here. Allow the string to tug him along. Allow the blue moon to guide him. Allow the magic to control him.

He could.

He _couldn't._

He had to text Cub. Warn Cub. Apologise for not listening to him, apologise for not taking the proper precautions, apologise for not fighting hard enough.

Why did he have to apologise for anything? He didn't owe Cub anything. He didn't owe Cub an explanation. This was what he wanted.

No. _No_ , it wasn't.

Scar reached into his robe pocket for his communicator. He had to text Cub quickly. The numbing, tingling feeling that had started at the tip of his toes was now crawling up his spine. The density of the magic around him was making it hard to think. The haze in his mind clouded his thoughts.

**GoodTimeWithScar: cub  
cubfan135: yes?**

Scar's thumbs hovered above the keys of his communicator. What was he about to send again?

He needed to think. He needed to clear his mind. Scar took slow, deep breaths and tried to calm himself down, tried to ignore the tingle beneath his skin. He looked up at the sky, at the blue moon, and the blue moon winked back at him.

Sudden clarity blossomed in his mind's eye.

The blue moon was like the red blood moon, but instead of affecting mobs and turning them more bloodthirsty, the blue moon empowered the magical energies of the natural world. This meant that witches were stronger, vexes were stronger, endermen were stronger. It didn't mean they would go out of their way to seek players, as with the blood moon, but they were definitely a lot more dangerous and should be avoided.

It was a rare occurrence, too. Grian had completely forgotten the rules of a blue moon until it shone down on him while he was building his mansion. The blue moonlight tinted his mansion all the wrong colours. The silence of the night only made everything seem more eerie. Grian decided it was time to turn in, time to spend the night indoors instead. He could work on some redstone, or daydream in bed.

It would be a long, lonely and sleepless night.

Grian was surprised to find Scar waiting for him inside his mansion as he skidded to a stop, pulling the elytra close. Did Scar come over because he didn't want to be alone? Maybe it wouldn't be such a boring night after all.

Grian turned back to Scar, where he was leaning against the wall near the entrance of the mansion. He was playing with his diamond sword, which surprised Grian, and was even more surprisingly skilled at it. The diamond sword was balanced on one finger turning round and round its hilt, so perfect balance had been achieved to keep it spinning in the air. The blue shade of the diamond sword was more vibrant than it should have been, its enchanted glow slightly brighter than Grian remembered it to be.

No. The diamond sword wasn't held up by Scar's finger. It was held up by magic.

If the blue glow was anything to go by, Vex magic.

That wasn't Scar waiting for him.

"Scar?" Grian said anyway, suppressing the tremble in his voice with great difficulty. It would do him no good to express a sense of fear in _his_ presence.

He looked away from the sword and turned to Grian, glowing eyes as blue as stained glass, as cold as ice, as sharp as diamond. He smiled at Grian, a smile that was too wide, too angled, and curled the wrong side of his lips.

"Now you're someone I've not spoken to," BadTimes said. He spoke casually, sounding almost like Scar, though his tone wasn't as light-hearted. There was a natural inflexion in his words that immediately resonated in Grian's mind as a warning of danger, like a predator and their growl before they pounce. It put him immediately on edge.

"What do you mean, Scar?" Grian tried to play off as innocent, ignorant. He had never come face-to-face with _him_ , only having heard stories from other Hermits. Though, he supposed this would have been inevitable this season, being Scar's neighbour. He just hadn't expected to meet BadTimes so soon; why did his presence follow Scar into their new world if the convexes hadn't done anything this season yet? "I talk to you everyday."

He pushed himself off the wall and headed towards Grian, grabbing onto the diamond sword and swinging it by his side instead. Grian instinctively backed away as he approached. It was strange to see him walk with weight in every step because Scar's footsteps were usually so light and bouncy.

Grian inevitably backed into the far wall of his mansion, cornering himself. BadTimes raised a hand to Grian's jaw and his initial touch was gentle, though it quickly turned into a firm grip - like a hawk capturing a rabbit - and lifting Grian slightly onto tip-toes, he twisted Grian's head left and right, examining him like a fruit.

Grian gasped in surprise at the strength in his grip. Had Scar always been this strong from constant building, and just no one seemed to notice beneath his loose wizard robes, or associate strength with Good Times "derpy deaths" Scar? Was this where his 9-pack from Demise came from? Or was his strength currently magically enhanced?

"Don't play naive, Grian," he said, kind on the surface, annoyance simmering in his undertone. It struck Grian in the heart that BadTimes could sound so much like Scar, and at the same time, _not_. So familiar, yet so _foreign_. He released his grip on Grian and Grian sank back to the ground, pressing himself as close as he could be to the wall behind him. "You know very well that _Scar's_ not here."

The word 'Scar' came out drawled and in a slightly higher pitch, as though he was mocking Scar's normal voice. 

Grian cast his eyes down to the ground. He couldn't bear to hold BadTimes' focused gaze, used to Scar's constantly distracted line of sight. He couldn't look at the steady grip BadTimes' other hand had on the sword that made it seem like an extension of his own arm; unlike Scar, he knew how to weld a sword. He probably knew how to _kill_ with a sword.

BadTimes snapped his fingers impatiently, and Grian found his head pushed back up with an invisible force to look at BadTimes right in his eerie blue eyes. There was a beat of silence as his eyes searched Grian's fearful ones. He must have seen something in Grian that resonated with him because the glow of his eyes flickered and BadTimes inhaled a sharp intake of air, his annoyed expression suddenly softening.

His shoulders relaxed, dropping all aggression. BadTimes took a step back and raised his arms to show that he came peacefully - though he kept holding on to his sword. "I'm sorry," he said, and put on a smile again, still curling the wrong side of his lips. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let me try again. I am-"

"BadTimes," someone interrupted from the entrance of the mansion, "what are you doing here?"

BadTimes whipped around, tension returning to his posture. His grip on the sword tightened, and didn't relax when Cub walked towards them.

"Cubfan-one-three-five," BadTimes greeted, slight irritation returning to his words. "How did you know that I was here?"

"Scar texted me," Cub held up his communicator, looking between BadTimes and Grian, "or rather, he texted me 'cub' and never responded afterwards, so I flew here to check on him. Is everything fine?" Cub directed the last question at Grian.

"You flew here under the blue moon?" BadTimes asked, ignoring the question and interrupting Grian's response. His eyes glowered with magic and a grin spread across his face. "Did you feel your vex senses tingling? Doesn't it feel so great to be back?"

"What happened to Scar?" Cub asked sharply instead. "What's the purpose of your presence?"

"I just wanted to have some fun," BadTimes replied vaguely.

"That's not why Scar gave way to you," Cub addressed BadTimes with intention and purpose, as though directing him down a specific route of thought and accepting no alternatives, experienced in dealing with him. "What was Scar upset about?"

"Scar was upset?" Grian interrupted curiously.

BadTimes looked sullen now, like a child with his playtime interrupted by an adult. He turned away and a blue glow outlined his figure as he took a step as though walking up an invisible staircase, air solidifying beneath his feet.

"Don't try to fly away!" Cub raised his voice in a warning. The next step in the air BadTimes took dispersed beneath his feet, and BadTimes came crashing to the ground.

BadTimes' sword whipped into action, held steadily in front of him as he picked himself up and his expression morphed into a snarl.

"Are you going to attack a fellow convex?" Cub challenged him, and Grian looked over to see a faint blue glow in Cub's eyes as well.

BadTimes hesitated then growled in frustration.

"Why was Scar upset?" Cub repeated his question, his words more forceful than before.

"...Scar couldn't get his _stupid_ sheep farm to work," BadTimes muttered, never lowering his sword.

"Redstone?"

"Yeah."

Cub glanced sideways at Grian, a playful smile appearing at his lips. "Grian's the wrong person to ask for help from."

"How would I know?" BadTimes retorted. "I've never spoken to him. And now I have, and - and - I thought we could be friends instead. I know he's friends with Scar."

"But that's not what you're here for, is it?" Cub reminded BadTimes, and Grian couldn't help but feel that was a little cruel. "That's not why you were summoned?"

"I was summoned because _Scar_ -" BadTimes sneered, "-got a little upset over some _dumb_ redstone and _I'm_ supposed to solve that problem for him because he _can't solve his own problems_."

"Scar can very well solve his own problems," Grian immediately spoke up, but Cub held a hand up to stop him. He seemed like he was already tired of where the conversation was going.

"Well, let's find Impulse, and get that sheep farm fixed," Cub sighed.

Cub didn't want to deal with BadTimes today; he didn't want to deal with BadTimes ever.

And neither did Scar, if he had the choice to.

When they had first acquired the masks and became convex, Scar hadn't been completely comfortable with the pranks they were asked to pull, especially since some bordered along the lines of being mean.

Scar would never have taken over someone's claimed plot, yet the convex constantly did so. Scar would never ruin someone else's building aesthetics, yet the convex constantly did so. It didn't sit well with Scar, and so Scar tried to quit.

He didn't answer the call of the vexes, refusing to go with Cub even when Cub came to call him along. He threw away his mask and stopped using Vex magic. He avoided the places the vexes had touched. He didn't participate in the pranks, didn't participate in economic dominance, and hoped the vexes would forget about him.

But one couldn't just sign a contract with magic and refuse to hold up one's end of the deal.

Cub never betrayed Scar's wish to ghost the vexes. He kept mum about Scar's locations, passing off excuses for him, agreeing to finish the two-person job individually. But the vexes, malicious little creatures, started giving him larger and larger tasks to complete with shorter and shorter deadlines. They were trying to force him to bring Scar back. Cub refused to. And when he failed to complete their tasks, the vexes punished him.

As much as Scar would like to have ignored what was going on, he could not leave Cub behind to be punished for his decisions. Cub had protected him and now it was time Scar protected Cub and face the vexes himself.

The vexes would not listen to his explanation. They would not listen to Scar's pleas, would not listen to his attempt to negotiate. They told Scar that if he wasn't going to do what they wanted him to do, then they were going to force him to do so instead. Scar, at his wits' end and in a fit of rare frustration, courage and anger, dared them to try.

"Hello, Impulse of the SV."

Impulse opened his eyes. He was lying on his bed but he hadn't been asleep, and had heard the sound of his water entrance part as the convexes flew in. He had heard them land beside him, as softly as they thought they could be, his base was big and empty enough for their footsteps to echo slightly.

"Hello, BadTimes," Impulse greeted as he turned and sat up, pushing himself to the edge of his bed to face them.

Cub and BadTimes stood before him, both with glowing blue eyes. BadTimes paused for a moment before he continued.

"How did you know it was me?" he narrowed his eyes and frowned at Impulse.

"You're the only one that calls me Impulse of the SV."

"I thought Scar called you that too."

"Only when he's teasing," Impulse pointed out. He smiled at BadTimes, unperturbed by the intense and unrelenting blue glow of his eyes. "It's been a while, huh?" Impulse asked, gesturing with a hand at BadTimes himself.

"Scar's been 'careful'," BadTimes answered with a scoff, raising his arms to airquote the word.

"Blame the blue moon," Cub grumbled under his breath.

"Well, how can I help?" Impulse asked, standing up.

"Scar needs your help with redstone," BadTimes said, then turned to Cub with a wicked grin. "See, I can be civil too!"

Cub rolled his eyes. Impulse supposed it was a response to their conversation on the way to his base.

"Well," Impulse's friendly smile never left. "Why didn't he just ask? I'd love to help!"

"He didn't want to disturb you. So here I am, disturbing you for him."

"Scar is never disturbing me, and neither are you," Impulse replied, looking directly into the unnatural blue glow of BadTimes' unblinking gaze. He raised his hand and placed it on BadTimes' shoulder, feeling him stiffen under his touch. " _We're_ friends. I'd do anything for you."

BadTimes remained silent for so long that Cub glanced over to see if he was fine.

The moon must have gone behind the clouds for a moment because the blue glow of his eyes almost seemed to dim and soften, turn into the warm colour of water. A mona lisa-sized smile of gratitude graced his lips - was that BadTimes? Or was that Scar?

"...Hey, you okay?" Cub interrupted the moment. The blue glow of his eyes came back as strong as before and BadTimes shook himself out of whatever that was, his expression twisting into a grumpy snarl instead.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" BadTimes snapped too quickly, a clear coverup for whatever might have been taken as a moment of weakness. He shrugged Impulse's hand off his shoulder roughly and lifted himself into the air. "Redstone isn't going to fix itself."

It wasn't Scar that had left the meeting with the vexes and returned to Cub.

It was BadTimes.

The vexes had isolated the essence of Scar's courage, anger and frustration, infused it with all the powers of a convex, and set him loose to wreck havoc upon the world. To make up for Scar's disobedience, BadTimes had no memories of Scar. He had no restraint, no attachment, no identity. He was a force created purely to destroy.

Cub was forced to watch, placed in an invisible box high above the gound. _This is what happens to convexes who don't listen_ , the vexes told him. Cub had to watch this… this _monster_ in Scar's body tear Hermitcraft apart. He destroyed builds, completely ruined them with unrepairable damage. He set up traps everywhere, that hermits began dying to them before he had even finished setting up all his traps.

The vexes had taken Scar and replaced him with a monster. Scar was gone, and it was all his fault. He would never see Scar again. He would never have the chance to apologise to Scar: I'm sorry for not working hard enough to protect you, I'm sorry I failed you, I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you.

This was the end of Hermitcraft, all because they tried to mess with magical forces far more powerful than they understood.

Cub wanted it all to end. He begged the vexes to take him too; why not create two monsters when you already have one? He hurled insults he had never spoken in his life at them, screamed at them until he lost his voice. He attacked them with the very magic they had given him, but they only laughed at his pain and deflected his attacks.

It went on for so long that Cub's tears stopped flowing, the pain stopped hurting, and all he felt was numb.

Nothingness.

Just like what was left in the world.

Nothing.

Just him, in this box for eternity, sitting here until he eventually rotted away.

Death would be a relief.

Cub was suddenly teleported from his box to where BadTimes was in the world.

BadTimes turned to him when he appeared, blue eyes glowing with power, with hunger, with anger. His - Scar's face - was twisted into the most ugly, animalistic snarl, grinding his teeth as he bared them at Cub. He radiated with pure malicious energy, hands burning with flames of blue fire. He didn't recognise Cub as anything but another target, raising a hand and aiming at Cub, intent on destroying him too.

He looked nothing like Scar. He acted nothing like Scar. He wasn't Scar.

_You've both learnt your lesson_ , the vexes said, _we expect no more disobedience_.

And then it was Scar again; no blue eyes, no blue glow, no blue flames. Scar collapsed to his knees and hands, breathing heavily, utterly exhausted, barely able to stay awake.

Scar had no memories of the destruction. His confusion was genuine, realising that he was kneeling on bedrock with absolutely nothing around him but floating bits of stone.

"Scar," Cub had managed to whisper, crawling towards him, and the utter relief that he felt had him wrapped in Scar's arms and sobbing into his shoulder.

And Scar cried right back, because he too had thought he was never coming back, never able to apologise to Cub for leaving him in the ditch, for letting him deal with the consequences of his actions, for never being able to make up for all the pain he had caused Cub.

Despite his exhaustion, Scar picked up a floating grass block and placed it down on the bedrock. And another, and another.

"We'll rebuild," Scar promised Cub tiredly, smiling as broadly as he could, truly the sunshine at the end of the darkest tunnel. "Block by block. We'll start over."

"You need full blocks," Impulse explained, tapping the trapdoors that Scar had placed around the sheep. "The trapdoors are not full blocks. It makes it seem like there's more space for the wool to go, other than straight down into your hopper minecart, which is why they keep popping out on the surface instead."

"He's not going to be happy when you tell him that," BadTimes grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. "He used all these trapdoors because they looked nice."

"Well," Impulse shrugged, "sometimes redstone doesn't look very pretty. I mean, have you seen our bases? They're just squares of hidden redstone boxes everywhere."

Grian couldn't help the laughter that came through, but Impulse took the joke in stride and grinned back.

"What about the shears not shearing the _stupid_ sheep?" BadTimes gestured with a tilt of his head.

"I'll have to check what Scar has built. I think he might have misplaced either the dispenser or the observer, or that the sheep growing its wool back is not being detected, which is another problem altogether."

"Great," BadTimes threw his arms in the air. "Another problem for another day."

"Another day you won't be seeing," Cub shot at BadTimes, almost too quickly, too eager to have him leave. Grian and Impulse shared a frown.

"Great, I don't want to be here, too," BadTimes snapped back at Cub, "I don't want to be Scar's handy problem solver as much as you don't want me here."

"Well," Impulse spoke up, "BadTimes, none of us said we didn't want-"

"Shut it, ImpulseSV," BadTimes snarled, falling back on familiar anger. "I know when I'm not wanted."

BadTimes pushed the three of them back and stalked out of the sheep barn. He paused at the exit and threw over his shoulder, "and you can tell _Scar_ that he's _welcome_ I brought a redstoner over and fixed his _stupid_ sheep farm for him!"

BadTimes jumped off the ledge, flying across the village towards Larry the snail.

"That wasn't very nice, Cub," Impulse frowned at him.

"You can talk to me about being nice when you've had to deal with him across two seasons of him causing utter destruction with the touch of his hands, with me and Scar having to repair his damage." Cub sighed tiredly. "Just ask Tango what happened when he tried to tag me with BadTimes around. Him helping Scar? It's just part of the price for his existence."

"He wasn't very destructive today," Grian pointed out, turning towards the exit of the barn and searching for BadTimes. "He was kind of nice, actually. Tough guy, but nice."

"Famous last words," Cub scoffed, before his anger dissipated at the sight of Scar emerging from the entrance of Larry, a hand holding the door frame for support, his other hand pressed against his head.

"Scar," Cub didn't hesitate to zip across the village with Vex magic. Impulse and Grian rocketed over to them. Cub supported Scar up, urging and guiding him back to bed.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, as Cub was fussing over him, Scar looked up at Grian and Impulse, deeply edged sorrow in his pained green eyes.

"I am so sorry," Scar croaked hoarsely at them, exhausted after being taken by vex magic. "I tried to control my emotions. I tried not to turn into him. I really did."

"Don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault. You could have held him down no problem. It's not you, it was the blue moon's effects," Cub assured.

"Maybe," Scar conceded, though he didn't sound very convinced himself.

"We know what's the problem with your sheep farm now. Impulse figured it out," Cub gestured to him and Impulse waved. Scar smiled weakly, tiredly at him. "We'll tell you all you need to know tomorrow. You should rest now."

"I won't be able to fall asleep with the blue moon," Scar pointed out with a soft chuckle.

"I've heard that even if you can't fall asleep, keeping your eyes closed helps your body relax anyway," Grian perked up.

"I'll do that," Scar nodded, his eyes already closing.

They watched Scar in silence until his breathing became regular as he lay in bed. Cub, in a much better mood, beckoned them out of Larry the snail, allowing Scar to rest.

Cub and Scar eventually understood how Scar had been 'cursed' by the vexes. Whenever the vexes called, they would call Cub and BadTimes, not Scar. Vex magic would take over Scar and bring _him_ out to do the vexes' bidding instead. Cub had to learn how to work with _him_.

With every convex job, BadTimes picked up a sense of attachment and identity. He became more than an amalgamation of sentient emotions, developing interpersonal skills with his interactions with Cub until they could _almost_ pretend that he was his own person, if only he wasn't stealing the body of Cub's best friend. As BadTimes grew into his own personality, the more he started to have a stake, a claim on the body.

Vex magic was no longer the only way to call BadTimes. Whenever Scar was riled up, mostly by negative emotions like fear, anger or frustration, _he_ would shift into existence. He, born to embody all of Scar's negative emotions, began to intrude into Scar's own life, his own experiences, his private emotions.

No one was happy about this evolution. Not Scar, not BadTimes, and not Cub. The vexes did nothing but laugh at their predicament when their own creation, BadTimes, complained to them the next time the convex were called.

Without the help of the vexes, Scar and Cub had to figure out their own solution to the problem. Their solution was to bury the negative emotions. Scar was already mostly in a good mood, so it couldn't be too hard to shove all the negativity deep inside during the off-times he did feel negative. They agreed to avoid using vex magic next season. Of course, neither predicted the presence of the blue moon.

That was how they had been keeping BadTimes away, and how they planned to keep him away forever.

They never considered how forcing BadTimes, a magically-created being of sentient emotions, to linger within the depths of Scar's emotional baggage was only going to affect _Scar_ himself.

"Grian, you'll explain what Impulse said to Scar tomorrow?" Cub asked. He was already hovering, prepared to fly back to his pyramid.

"Of course," Grian promised.

Cub nodded and looked at Impulse, who pulled out his rockets and grinned in acknowledgement.

"Thanks for all your help; I'll check in on Scar again, make sure he's fine after _his_ sudden and unwanted appearance," Cub nodded at the both of them, then turned and flew away. Impulse waved at Grian and went off towards his own base.

Grian cast a last look over at Larry the snail, then flew back to his mansion, knowing that he would be tossing and turning in bed all night over the events under the blue moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Tbc maybe, otherwise it'll stay a one-shot story. It depends on if I'm inspired to give Scar an eventual resolution with BadTimes. I do have ideas, as this story might have hinted at.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Sorry it was a bit abrupt at the end. Let me know what you thought, anyway. Constructive criticism welcome!


End file.
